Remington

by Silvia Violet

  “Is it hesitating if you’re waiting for the best information?”

  My father studied me for a moment. “You know I’m not an impulsive man.”

  He hadn’t been when I was a kid, but the million-dollar necklace he’d bought my stepmother on a whim would indicate that might have changed.

  “You have to know the difference between careful planning and questioning yourself.”

  “And you don’t question yourself?”

  “There’s a point where you make a decision and go with it. At that point, you don’t turn back.”

  Again, I knew he was right. I knew that for men like us, going into something halfway was likely to be fatal. You went all in, or you might as well not try at all, but I liked research and data. I liked having a clear plan.

  As if my father could read my mind, he said, “There’s nothing wrong with planning, but it’s got to be leading to something. I know you’re a strategy guy, but you’ve got to be an action guy too.”

  “I’ve been in the middle of the action plenty.”

  My father held up his hands. “You have, and I’m proud of that. You’ve been instrumental in every altercation we’ve had for the last five years. That’s why you’re in charge now.”

  “You said I was only—”

  He brushed my comment aside. “No, I haven’t formally passed on the family legacy, but you know you’re running things, I know you’re running things, and so do our enemies.”

  “I took a deep breath and blew it out hard.”

  My father smiled. “It’s a heavy weight, but it’s also a privilege.”

  I nodded. I believed that as much as he did.

  “I’m not saying you don’t know how to take action. I’m not saying I wouldn’t trust you, or that I wouldn’t hope it was you leading the charge if someone came after us directly. It’s not an easy balance.”

  “You did a great job, Pop. I want to be as good.”

  “You will. Listen to me, then go with your gut. Whoever you think is the lead on moving this stuff, you’re probably right. Listen to X too. Franco Marchesi says X is one of the few men he wouldn’t want to turn against them. Those are big words. He’s an important contact to have.”

  “I know, Pop.” As if I weren’t worried enough about the meeting as it was.

  He smiled. “Now, if you’re right, and the Landrys are connected—and I believe they are—this whole thing stinks just like everything they put their hands in. So what are you going to do about them?

  “You’re really turning this over to me?”

  He nodded. “I am.”

  I narrowed my eyes, studying him. “You don’t intend to step in before we make our move?”

  “I promised Marjorie I’d step back, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

  “You deserve more time with her.”

  He nodded. “I do, and I’m lucky to have sons who can take over for me so I can take that time without worrying the family business is going to fall apart.”

  “We want to be here for you, Pop.”

  “Good. Now tell me what you plan to do about the Landrys.”

  “Every time we’ve gone against them, we’ve stopped short of annihilation, and they’ve come crawling back like roaches when the light goes out. It’s time to take more permanent action.”

  He nodded. “I agree.”

  “We need to eliminate all the powerful players and anyone who has been directly involved with the gunrunners.”

  “Does that include Elandra?”

  Elandra Landry was Timon’s wife. He was the family boss, but she was a most unusual wife for our world. She had her hands in as much of the business as he did, maybe more, but we had rules we always stuck by. We didn’t kill women, and we didn’t kill children. In this case, though, things were different than they’d been in any of the other battles I’d engaged in. “I don’t know, Pop. That’s a hard call.”

  “Yes, it is, son.”

  “And you’re not going to tell me what you’d do, are you?”

  “No, not this time. Not right now anyway.”

  “If she comes for us directly, if she shoots first, then she goes down with her husband.”

  “That is why I always worked hard to keep your mother out of everything I did. Then Marjorie didn’t want secrets between us, and I didn’t want to keep things from her.”

  If I thought Elandra only knew secrets like my stepmother did, I’d make sure she left town and couldn’t come back, but if I found out the rumors were true and she’d killed my cousin Dustin, she wouldn’t get an offer that kind.

  Dustin had been shot in the back the last time we’d tangled with the Landrys. He’d only been twenty-two, and he’d been brash and stupid and took a hell of a lot of chances, but he was family. Our rules were important, and we stuck by them faithfully, but sometimes a person’s actions deserved consequences that made it necessary for us to break them.

  Pop and I caught up on some more minor matters of business before wrapping up. My father stayed in his office, and I found my stepmother and said goodbye.

  “Don’t let your father get involved in whatever is heating up with the Landrys,” she said.

  “I’ll do my best, but he’s stubborn, and ultimately he’s the head of the family, so…”

  “Tell him he can direct things from here.”

  “I have a feeling he’s more likely to listen to you than me, but if it makes you feel better, he seemed to be backing off. He really wants to do this for you.”

  I said goodbye and left, not feeling any less concerned about the situation than I had when I’d arrived. I wanted my father to have time to relax. I wanted my stepmother not to be worried about him all the time, but this was a heavy weight. I needed to make sure the family looked strong while also seeing that my father didn’t overexert himself. It fell to me to keep my brothers and everyone I cared about safe. I pushed all those thoughts aside. No matter how much I’d taken on, I deserved to occasionally enjoy myself, so I was going to take Henri on a shopping expedition.

  10

  Henri

  I took some time to explore Remington’s house. He’d told me I could, and I wasn’t about to turn him down. The place was gorgeous, and I was hoping I might learn something about him. I considered seeing if I could get into his locked office, but even if I did, I was sure he’d figure it out. I didn’t want to think about what the consequences of my defiance would be.

  Still, there was plenty to discover in the rooms that were open to me. On a cart in the kitchen, I found a stack of cookbooks, most of them vintage. I guessed they were collectibles rather than something he used regularly. He seemed like the kind of man who just knew what he wanted and made it.

  On the ground floor, along with the kitchen, there was a modest-sized living room that made me feel as if I’d stepped into the 1920s with its antique furniture and black-and-white pictures on the wall showing New Orleans during that era. There was even an old phonograph in the corner, and I wondered if it actually worked. Before I explored more, the chandelier made of glass beads drew my attention. The room was like Remy, beautiful but with enough quirks to give it character. There was one other room downstairs. Two walls were mostly multi-paned windows, and the other walls were covered with shelves full of books including history, historical fiction, mysteries, and books about art and natural history.

  There was also a large, comfortable chair that was situated to catch the late-afternoon light from the courtyard out back. I imagined Remington sitting there, reading, watching the sunset, seeing the city come alive as night fell, hearing sounds from the streets around him. Did he really enjoy quiet, reflective time like that? What would be the purpose of a room like this if he didn’t? I’d love to sit there with him, but that wasn’t what he’d hired me for.

  I went upstairs then. The locked door taunted me, but I had other places to explore. The guest room colors were bright, a bold blue on the walls, pale blue bed linens, and a rich green rug.


  There was one last space I hadn’t seen yet, the upstairs space that sat over the small library downstairs. I stepped in, and what I saw made my breath catch. There was a gorgeous cello leaning against an antique chair. I could see Remington playing the cello, his whole body moving with the music. I imagined he would be as focused playing music as he was in bed. There was a piece of music on the stand in front of the chair. It was titled “Bayou Melody.”

  The walls were decorated with pictures of string instruments and a framed musical score of “When the Saints Go Marching In.” I loved that he had small spaces filled with things I was certain he was passionate about. He might seem cold at first, but he was definitely a man filled with passion. I had no doubt that passion could turn to anger in a second, but when it had been directed at me, he’d made me feel more incredible than I ever had.

  Now I had two whole weeks with him. I would not want to leave, but maybe, just maybe I could let myself enjoy the time I had, and when I was done, I would be able to start something new for myself.

  I heard the door, and Remington called out to me. I hurried out of the sitting room. He told me I could be there, but somehow it felt too intimate, too much of an invasion of his privacy.

  As I rushed to his bedroom, I couldn’t help but question who he really was: dangerous criminal, musician, reader, chef? Was there anything he couldn’t do?

  “I’m up here,” I called.

  I heard him on the stairs and a shiver of anticipation ran through me. What would he want from me now? He mentioned getting me some clothes, but I wondered if he’d need some stress relief first. He’d seemed tense about the meeting he was headed to.

  When he stepped into the room, he smiled as his gaze roamed over me. I was still wearing his t-shirt and nothing else.

  “As much as I like you in my clothes, they won’t do for where we need to go, so you’ll have to change.”

  “We’re going now?”

  “Yes. I told you I needed to outfit you for spending this time with me. You certainly can’t wear these every day”—he held out my clothes, which had clearly been cleaned—“though you’ll have to wear them now.”

  I frowned as I looked at my clothes. “Where are we going exactly?”

  “Shopping.”

  “I know but… I’m imagining you shop at very different stores than I do.”

  “Probably. I don’t even want to hear what my tailor will say about your outfit.”

  “Your tailor?” This was even worse than I’d thought.

  “Yes, He’ll have some off-the-rack items for you, but we’ll also get you measured so you can have other things made.”

  “I’m only staying here for two weeks and…”

  “Yes, that’s two weeks’ worth of clothes you’ll need. Get dressed. We need to get going. We’re meeting a… work colleague for dinner, and I want you properly attired.”

  “A work colleague?”

  He nodded. “I know you’ve already agreed to confidentiality, but it is very important that you don’t repeat any of the conversation you may hear.”

  I frowned at him. “Who would I repeat it to?”

  “No one in particular, but it’s best if you don’t listen too hard and forget whatever you hear. Knowing too much about my business will get you in trouble.”

  “Yes, sir,” I answered demurely, looking up at him through my lashes.

  “Answering me like that will get my belt on your ass.”

  I shuddered. I wasn’t sure I would hate that, but I didn’t want to push him. Not now. Not until I knew him a little better.

  I pulled on my pants, hating how shabby they were. Once I’d added my top, Remington studied me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was considering getting you a sweater. I don’t want anyone looking at you in that.”

  Was he always so possessive? And why was it so hot? “I… um… Getting people to look at me was kind of the point of this outfit.”

  “Not when you’re with me. For now you’re mine, and I don’t want to encourage anyone else.”

  That should put me off, but it didn’t. “I’m all yours. You’re paying me well enough to play this however you’d like.”

  There was something in his eyes for a second, something sad I didn’t understand.

  “Let’s go,” he said. “As long as you’re with me, no one would dare try to touch you.”

  “I thought we were going to some fancy froufrou clothing shop.”

  Remington looked horrified. “I assure you there is nothing froufrou about the clothing at Maximilian’s.”

  I snickered.

  “You better behave yourself in the shop.”

  “Yes, sir.” I wasn’t sure where I’d gotten the nerve to tease him, but I could tell he didn’t truly mind it.

  “We are, as I think you intended to imply, going to an expensive, well-respected clothing store, but we’re still walking through the streets of New Orleans. Anything can happen here.”

  “So I’ve heard. I’ve never really gotten a chance to explore the city. I’ve only been here a few months. I moved in with my cousin and his friends after… Well let’s just say things were bad back home.”

  Remington tensed. “Was someone after you? Because if so—”

  I shook my head. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Right now, you’re with me, and I take care of everything that’s mine.”

  Shit. “I just owe some people, okay?”

  “What kind of people?” He looked even angrier, but I wasn’t sure if he was angry with me or my creditors.

  “No one scary. Hospitals, doctors, and utility companies.”

  He seemed to relax. “So working for me will help?”

  “It will. A lot.”

  “Good.”

  He seemed sincere in wanting me to be okay, but why would he care?

  “So you’ve really never explored the city?”

  “I came here once with my mom, but that was years ago, and it’s different seeing the city as a kid.”

  He snorted. “It sure as hell is. If my work wasn’t so demanding, I’d show you around.”

  “You’re taking time off for us to go shopping.”

  “True, but I worked all night, and I deserve a few hours to do something else.”

  “You didn’t work all night.”

  He raised his brows. “Maybe you do need a spanking.”

  My cock grew half-hard at the thought of it. I absolutely did not need to be fantasizing about all the things he might want to do to me. This was a job, not a chance for me to explore the dark fantasies I’d had for years, things I probably wouldn’t even like in real life and yet… Maybe…

  Remington let me out through the gate and took my hand as we started down the street. I knew he was staking his claim on me, but I didn’t mind.

  “Why do you work so hard? You seem to have plenty of money. Shouldn’t you take time to enjoy it?”

  “My work isn’t something with scheduled hours. It’s more… It’s hard to take time off.

  I had a feeling he was going to say something else, and I wanted to know what it was, but I also knew it was safer for me to stay in the dark about what he did. I was absolutely sure it wasn’t legal. My job was illegal too, so it wasn’t like I could point fingers. Although I didn’t harm anyone, and I had the feeling that he did or at least he had the potential to. “Surely you could take a day off occasionally.”

  “You want to explore the city that badly?”

  “No, I… I just meant…”

  “Come on.” He squeezed my hand as we turned onto Bourbon. I couldn’t help but gawk at the bars and strip clubs that were already hopping, despite it being midafternoon.

  A woman stepped out the side door of one such establishment, wearing nothing but a small pair of underwear and holding a cigarette in her hand. She winked at me. Remington tugged on my hand to keep me moving.

  “She was just… Out there, and it’s…”

  “F
or someone in your profession, you are charmingly innocent.”

  “Like I said, I’ve only been doing this a few months, and it wasn’t my choice. I don’t mean anyone forced me or anything, but I didn’t know how else to get the money I need.”

  Remington nodded. “People often end up in strange places when they’re desperate.”

  I liked that he didn’t treat me with scorn or pity or try to either solve my problems or dismiss them. He just took things in stride. I hadn’t had anyone react that way.

  We took another turn, then he stopped before a very nondescript entrance. There was a simple sign on the door that read Maximilian’s Tailoring.

  I looked in the window and saw some expensive-looking suits on mannequins, but I likely wouldn’t have noticed them if Remington hadn’t stopped in front of the shop.

  When we stepped inside, I looked around in astonishment. The store was pristine. There were a few garments well-spaced on racks in the front and an old wooden counter toward the back. I could see into a second room where there was a sofa and a pedestal where I supposed men stood to have their measurements taken and their hems checked. It all seemed very Victorian.

  The man who stood behind the counter rushed around to us as soon as he saw Remington.

  “Mr. Theriot, we’re so happy to have you back with us. We’ve prepared a room for you and your guest.” I was completely out of place in the establishment, but not once did the young man betray any concern about that. He spoke to me as if I were dressed like Remington, in clothes that would belong in the store.

  The entire experience was surreal. I’d seen shops like this in movies, but I wasn’t sure they really existed.

  “Come have a seat,” the young man said. “I’m Claude, and I’m happy to assist you with anything you need. Would you like a beverage? We have champagne, coffee, sparkling water.”

  At the stores I shopped at, I was lucky to find an employee who could answer a simple question like what the price of something was. I never imagined being offered champagne while I shopped.